


Signals

by Adarog (RembrandtsWife)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-12
Updated: 2011-09-12
Packaged: 2017-10-23 16:10:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/252284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RembrandtsWife/pseuds/Adarog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some people just ignore signals, no matter how obvious they are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Signals

**Author's Note:**

> Written as comment-fic for ella_bane on Livejournal, triggered by a comment from myashke.

Gwaine stopped when he saw the kerchief on the door-latch.

He'd been looking for Merlin for the last half-hour, finally trudging up to Gaius's workroom in the tower because the old man usually knew where Merlin was. Gaius had given him the eyebrow treatment, again, as if he were going to *hurt* Merlin, and then said drily that Merlin, as usual, was attending on the prince, and therefore might be in the prince's chambers. Gwaine had thanked him and trotted down the tower stairs at breakneck speed.

It was no big deal, really--just that he'd finally got a letter from his mother, a reply to the one he sent months ago to tell her that he was settled at Camelot. And he wanted to tell *somebody* about it, and Merlin was his closest friend.

It was nice to think, now, that Merlin wasn't his only friend. Just his closest.

So he'd tracked Merlin to Arthur's chambers--in the middle of the afternoon--and he'd been all ready to knock, and then there was this--sign, on the door.

Gwaine touched it with tentative fingers. It was dull blue, soft, coarse, threadbare--one of the kerchiefs Merlin usually wore around his neck. (Hiding that slim strong neck and those lovely collarbones--shouldn't be allowed.) So what was it doing hanging from the prince's latch?

"I wouldn't go in there if I were you."

He turned sharply. One of the older castle maids, laundry basket propped on her hip, had stopped. She cocked her head at the dangling bit of blue fabric.

"Hanging something on the door like that... means do not disturb, see? None of us maids would go in. Especially not when it's *that* one. The blue one."

She fixed him with a significant look, then tossed her head and bundled off, humming under her breath.

"Especially not when it's *that* one. The blue one."

Gwaine had a sudden memory of seeing Merlin by the training field this morning. He'd been wearing a red scarf with his usual blue tunic--and why didn't Arthur get his manservant a better wardrobe, for pity's sake? Then they'd ridden out on patrol for a few hours, and when Merlin greeted them by the stables and helped Arthur disarm, he'd been wearing a blue scarf.   
This blue scarf. Hanging on Arthur's door.

Gwaine reached out a hand to the latch--paused, misdoubting--then grinned, and laid a hand on the latch and very slowly, very gently pushed down on it, and pulled the door ajar.

The door opened onto Arthur's sitting room, which was empty. Gwaine shouldered silently through the door and pulled it close but not closed behind him. If he stood very still, perhaps he could hear something.

Rhythmic thudding.

Hard breathing.

Grunting.

A sharp cry.

The hair stood up on Gwaine's arms, and something else stood up, too. No mistaking that consort of sounds. It wasn't like Arthur could be beating Merlin for offending him.

He heard voices, heard words, and started to withdraw--but not fast enough. The inner door opened, and Merlin slipped through, pushing it closed. He was naked.

He saw Gwaine and stopped, mouth open, eyes wide. Gwaine allowed himself a good long look at his friend: Long, lean, and pale, his face flushed, long half-hard cock swinging from a thick nest of black hair. Lovebites on his neck and chest. Utterly fucking beautiful.

Gwaine pressed one finger to his mouth, nodded once to Merlin, and backed out of the room, carefully closing the door behind him. So. He'd wondered. Now he knew. Merlin and Arthur were lovers, at least in some fashion. But Merlin was also his friend, and Arthur--was his liege. And Merlin's. And all's fair, as they say, in love and war.

Patting his tunic where his mother's letter was tucked near his heart, Gwaine strode off.

  



End file.
